ALDER

by Melody Robinette

  The five of them traveled up the stairs into the sterile, white room that smelled of sorrow and sickness. It always made her slightly nauseated to begin with, and the stress of the current situation wasn’t exactly helping. Kyndel’s stomach did an uncomfortable flip when she saw Charlotte propped up in bed with Jastin in the chair beside her, his head cradled in his hands.

  The others let Kyndel approach her first either out of respect or trepidation, she wasn’t sure which, nor did she particularly care. She didn’t want to go first. She didn’t even want to be there if she was completely honest. Why would she? But Charlotte was her best friend—was being the key word—and the others would likely judge her if she didn’t.

  “Hey, Char,” she said, approaching the bed tentatively. “How’re you feeling?”

  “Well, person-I-don’t-know,” Charlotte answered brusquely, “I just woke up from a month-long nap and don’t know who the hell any of you people are. I don’t even know who I am. So, I guess the answer to your question is: ‘not so great.’”

  Kyndel felt like she’d been slapped. She had known that Charlotte wouldn’t recognize her, of course, but she hadn’t expected her to be so mean.

  Jastin looked up then, giving Kyndel a pitying look. No, actually it was more of an empathetic look. He knew exactly what she was feeling, Kyndel was sure, because he’d likely already received his share of stabbing words from the girl he loved more than anything in the world.

  “Do you remember anything at all?” Crystal asked Charlotte.

  “Does it look like I remember anything at all?” she mocked. “A toddler knows more about their own lives than I do. Okay, no, that’s not true. I do remember how to speak, which I’m sure you all appreciate now judging by the horrified looks on your faces. Oh, and I remember how to breathe. That’s a fun trick.”

  Crystal pursed her lips but didn’t say anything. How could you be rude to someone in such a state?

  Tears filled Kyndel’s eyes to the brink and crashed down her cheeks in currents. Ember pulled her close, hugging her tightly and kissing her on the top of the head.

  Charlotte’s annoyed face morphed into one of revulsion at this gesture. “Ugh. That’s nauseating. I may not remember who I am, but at least I know that that is unnatural. Do me a favor and get out of here if you two are going to do that before you put me into another coma.”

  Ember’s fingertips crackled with sparks, but she refrained from shooting any Fire at Charlotte. Kyndel shot her a wounded look.

  “Aw. Did I make you cwy? Poor little mutant elf girl.”

  Kyndel pulled away from Ember then and stormed out of the Healing Tree. Luke, Crystal, and Ember followed after her. Avery remained behind with a miserable looking Jastin.

  “She’s not herself, Kyn,” Crystal called.

  “I know.” It was taking all of her energy to force back the urge to break down and sob. “That’s why I’m leaving. I don’t know who that girl is, but she’s not my best friend.”

  “Yes she—” Luke began.

  “NO. She’s not!” she shouted, causing the three of them to stop in their tracks. “That girl is not Charlotte. She’s a monster possessing her body. Charlotte’s as good as dead to me. She might as well be a Shadow.”

  * * *

  LUKE actually welcomed the laid-back meeting with Atticus after the dramatic episode in the Healing Tree with Kyndel and Charlotte. Though he was soon reminded that the last time he had been in the Powers Tree, Autumn had been by his side. Reminders like those were inescapable. Memories of his sister were everywhere, in everything. There was no use hiding from them.

  Atticus welcomed Luke with a tight hug. “I’m not going to ask how you’re doing because I know there isn’t a clear answer to that question.”

  “That’s true. It’s a very, uh…complicated answer,” Luke said, as they came to sit around Atticus’s heavy wooden desk. “Sometimes I think I’m doing okay. Other times I’m—well—not. But most of the time I’m managing.”

  Atticus nodded as if he’d figured as much. “And Avery? How is he…coping?”

  “He’s, uh… He’s definitely not handling it like I am. I’m not sure he even is handling it. He mainly just walks around like a zombie most of the time.”

  Atticus shot Luke a bemused look. “Zombie?”

  “Oh, right, that’s an Outside thing. It’s an animated corpse.”

  “I see. Sounds fascinating?”

  Luke chuckled. “Outsiders are weird. What can I say?”

  “I assume you didn’t come here to talk about animated corpses, though?” Atticus asked, pouring Luke a mug of coffee from a wooden cask and offering it to him. Luke knew he was growing up if only because he no longer drowned his coffee in milk and sugar. He drank it black. Like a man.

  “No, you’re right, that’s not why I wanted to meet with you,” Luke said, taking a drink of his coffee. “Do you remember what we talked about with Autumn not long before the Shadow attack?”

  “About changing the laws?”

  “Well, yes, but about the Warriors specifically.”

  “Refresh my memory. I believe you both threw out several ideas at the time.”

  “We did. One of the ideas was to have a Warrior Test every year rather than every five years and to only choose two Warriors, rather than ten.”

  Atticus nodded, running a hand through the graying stubble on his chin. “Yes, I remember that being mentioned.”

  “Also, that the chosen Warriors would no longer be assigned to a particular ‘group.' They would just be Warriors.”

  “I remember that as well.”

  “Well? What do you think about that?”

  Atticus thought for a moment, taking a few sips of coffee. Luke waited, shifting in his seat. “I think it’s a smart idea. That way there would only be two Warriors to train. Therefore their skills would be more perfected because they would have more individualized attention. Also, it would be beneficial if we were to ever lose a Warrior. We wouldn’t have to continuously train a set of alternates because we would be getting two new Warriors every year. And taking away the “groups” would make the Warriors feel more like a whole rather than parts of a whole. And they would retire by pairs rather than tens. Makes perfect sense. Are you planning on implementing this?”

  “Yes,” Luke stated.

  “When?”

  “As soon as possible.”

  A slow smile spread across Atticus’s face. “I’ll let my students know tomorrow.”

  21

  Curiosity Doesn’t Just Kill Cats

  Autumn had begun only letting herself read Victor’s journal at night because she didn’t want to be caught in the act by Eris, or worse, Victor himself. So, after Eris came to turn down Autumn’s bed and light a small fire, and when the sun had long since set, Autumn turned on the small oil lamp beside her bed, reached under her mattress, and pulled out the worn crimson journal.

  She’d reached the part where Victor had been sent by Vyra to attend Aspen Academy and spy on the elves—mostly Olympus—as much as possible with the ultimate goal of eventually becoming a Warrior. He set himself up in an empty, twisted tree home and spent his spare time practicing his magic or riding his unicorn that Autumn finally found out was named Nightshade. Victor’s reasoning for calling him this was surprising to Autumn.

  An entry in his journal said, “There is a variety of Nightshade plants, some of them are fine to eat, and some of them are downright deadly. But sometimes, if you’re hungry enough, you may just have to take a chance. A name is, after all, just a name.”

  Finally, Autumn reached the part in the journal she had been both waiting for and dreading—when Victor met Avery and Avabelle.

  And, once again, she was surprised…and then horrified.

  Entry Seventeen

  Today was the first day of school. I learned nothing in class that I didn’t already know. But, then again, I’m not here to learn about Underground History. I’m here to learn about the elves of the kin
gdom. At first, they were proving to be just as closed minded, pretentious, and unfriendly as Vyra said they’d be. But then I met Avabelle and Avery. They didn’t treat me like the Atrum I am at all, granted they still don’t know I’m an Atrum or an Ellock for that matter. Even still. Their kindness has me wondering if the Atrums might be wrong about the elves of the kingdom.

  I will reserve my judgment, though, and I’m not going to say anything to Vyra just yet because I know she will only judge and ridicule me about foolishly letting my guard down. She knows I’m more powerful than her and that I could strike her down in an instant if I wanted to. She knows I could…but she also knows that I won’t, so I might as well be powerless.

  Entry Eighteen

  Avabelle and Avery are still around. But they don’t know what I am yet. I need to tell them, I know I should, but I’m afraid of how they’ll react. I don’t want to lose the only friends I’ve ever had, but I feel like a liar. I’m getting worried, though, because, when I become angry, I black out, and I can’t remember anything from that time. I have no idea what I’ve done when the darkness takes over. I’ve killed animals, broken trees. Luckily I’ve managed to control myself around the elves, otherwise, who knows what could happen. But I need to tell Avery and Avabelle what I am. Maybe they could even help me… Help me escape my darkness.

  Entry Nineteen

  I think Vyra was wrong about the elves here. Avabelle and Avery are actually my friends. My real friends. I told them what I am today. Most of what I am. I told them I was an Atrum…and they didn’t leave. They weren’t afraid of me. Avabelle patted my hand and said that it didn’t change anything, and Avery cracked a joke about girls liking “bad boys” and that that was why so many female elves seem strangely infatuated with me. I’d expected them to turn white in fear. I’d expected them to yell at me and tell me to go back to where I came from. But they didn’t do that. Not even close. Vyra was wrong. I have some things to think about.

  The next entry was written in a scratchy, erratic script. It was clearly Victor’s writing, but it looked as though his hand had been shaking and water splotches covered the page.

  Entry Twenty

  I am an Ellock. I am evil. And I don’t know how I could have thought otherwise. The darkness is in me, eating at me. And it’s taken over again. I am horrified at what I’ve done.

  I killed Avabelle. I killed her.

  One of the only elves that ever has or ever will love me is gone because of me. All I remember is that we got into a fight. I don’t even remember what we were fighting about. The next thing I know, I’m blacking out and then coming to with Avabelle’s fragile neck in my hands. I tried to revive her. I tried so hard. I should have practiced healing spells. I should have known I would need to. I will never forgive myself for this.

  And what’s worse, I covered it up. I didn’t know what to do when I realized what I’d done. I panicked and called my Shadows to make it look like they had killed her. I didn’t want to lose Avery as a friend too. But I’m fairly positive that he will never trust me again. He thinks I attracted the Shadows because of my Atrum blood, and that’s why she died. If he knew what actually happened, if he knew how truly guilty I am…he’d try to kill me. And I wouldn’t blame him.

  I’m going to leave here for a while. I don’t know if I’ll be back. I don’t know if I can take coming back. Because I know what I’ll find. I will find the same fear in the eyes of my classmates as I found in the eyes of my family. But that would be a rightful punishment that I surely deserve. So perhaps I will stay. Because seeing that fear in the people who have come to trust me, even like me, will be nothing short of torturous. And torture is only a fraction of the punishment I deserve.

  Autumn closed the journal with a turning stomach, unable to read any more. She was horrified and confused. According to this journal, Avabelle’s death wasn’t something Victor took lightly. It wasn’t even something he had planned or wanted to happen. His inner demons had come out of him and took control. But which was more horrifying? Someone who wanted to kill and did, or someone who didn’t want to kill…but couldn’t help it?

  Wide awake and not wanting to sit in bed with this mystifying journal anymore, Autumn stuffed the little red book under her mattress and threw the covers off of her. She wanted to walk or run or something. Pulling on her sleeping cloak and stuffing her feet in some slippers, she left her room to roam through the drafty hallways.

  She paused by the doorway of the library but decided against it. She needed a new place to explore, something to get her mind off of that journal and its disturbing contents. The next door she approached was already ajar. Autumn moved quietly to open it, peering inside. It looked like a sitting room with its fireplace, bookshelves, and desks, but the giant bed threw her off. Was it just a trick of the shadows or was someone in the bed? She moved to open the door further and then—

  “Autumn,” Victor said from behind her, making her jump about a foot in the air.

  She whipped around to look up into his dark eyes, only a sliver of emerald showing in the dim lighting. Her last mental image of him was from the dark pictures his journal had painted in her mind of the day he’d killed Avabelle.

  “I—I was just… I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Yes, well,” Victor began, stepping in front of her and closing the open door. “I’m sure there are other ways of entertaining yourself.”

  “Is there a reason you don’t want me going in that room?” Autumn challenged, which she knew was foolish after what she’d just read.

  “Is there a reason you want to go in that room?”

  Autumn pursed her lips. “Curiosity.”

  “Curiosity doesn’t only kill cats, you know.”

  He had a strange look in his eyes, a knowing look. Autumn’s brows met and the unwanted image of Victor blacking out and unconsciously killing Avabelle floated to the front of her mind. Lately, she’d had no problem challenging him. She hated him, and she wanted him to know this. But, even though her life had little substance left in it, she still wanted to live. She wasn’t suicidal…and making Victor Vaun mad had clearly proven to be deadly. So, she stood down and quietly walked around him, back to her room. Best not to annoy him in the darkness with no one else around.

  No witnesses.

  22

  Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

  LUKE was glad to have the distraction of the upcoming Warrior Test, even though many of the elders in the town were not at all happy about this change. Who did this young whippersnapper think he was coming into the kingdom like this and rewriting age-old laws without adult supervision? Luke ignored their criticism. He’d expected this from them. They’d been used to doing things a certain way for decades. They had grown complacent and comfortable with the way things were because that’s the way they’d always been. But comfortable doesn’t always equal just. It was time for a change.

  However, the elders were not the only ones confused. The other young Warriors had been taken aback by the news as well. After all, the old ways had long since been ingrained into their heads by their parents.

  “Wait, what do you mean only two Warriors are going to be chosen?” Edric asked one afternoon when Luke had gathered the Warriors as a whole on the Training Grounds to discuss these new changes. “That just doesn’t seem right.”

  “Shut up, Ogden,” Kyndel snapped, which Luke silently approved of with the slightest of smirks. “You weren’t even an original Warrior.”

  “Exactly,” Edric retorted harshly. “I was an alternate, which you guys needed.”

  “And there will still be alternates,” Luke said. “More than before, even. I agree that alternates are needed in the Warriors.” Did he just say he agreed with Edric Ogden? Surely not. That would mean for sure that he was growing up.

  “And you’re no longer going to have only three judges?” a Duo Warrior asked.

  “All of the Warriors will vote on the two elves they believe to be most suitable,” Luke said. “We are the ones that
know what it truly takes to be a Warrior. We are aware of what areas we lack and how a new Warrior could fill those gaps.”

  “There will be a Warrior Test every single year?” a Triplex asked with a look of resentment. “That’s going to take up a lot of our time.”

  “It’s only one evening out of your entire year to observe the Warrior Test and vote. Do you not think it’s a worthy cause?” Luke challenged. The Triplex pursed her lips but said nothing. Apparently, 28-year-olds weren’t all that mature themselves. “This is what Autumn wanted, to see the Warriors as a united front, not just separate groups of fighters. I mean, look at yourselves.”

  Luke waved a hand over the watching Warriors, who had gone silent at the mention of Autumn, each segregated in their own original rotation. Quinns, Tetras, Triplexes, Duos, and Unum. Though their numbers were decidedly fewer, and the alternates hadn’t been given sufficient time to train.

  “I see five completely separate, clearly defined, groups right now. That’s not how it should be. We should be intermingling, learning from each other. Yes, it is possible to learn things from younger elves. We’re losing our people at an alarming rate as it is. I think it would make the incoming alternate Warriors feel more welcome than anything, more like a small part of a larger whole.”

  “Here, here!” Ember shouted to Luke’s surprise. “All in favor of unity say aye!”

  “Um—” Luke began, about to tell her that this wasn’t exactly how it worked.

  But then a chorus—louder than he expected—of “aye” rang out over the Training Grounds. Luke glanced back at Ember, who flashed him a supportive wink along with two thumbs up. And he reluctantly realized that he was starting to—well, maybe he didn’t like her yet—but he definitely disliked her less. And the fact that she had worked so hard to save Crystal’s life helped too.